


Always Something To Do

by dalarenzo



Series: ToDo Shorts [2]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5034478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalarenzo/pseuds/dalarenzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life didn't always turn out quite like he'd planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Something To Do

A good night’s sleep was a rare occurrence for Enzo. What was even rarer still was waking up without Alaric. They’d honestly been together, in every sense of the word, for almost two years now. Or at least it had been two years since Damon had disappeared and the two had struck up a deal to work together to find their raven haired friend.

But they hadn’t found him. What they had found, some way or another, was each other. Someone to share in the pain of the loss of Damon and someone who needed the other as they did. Enzo and Alaric were a messy, complicated, stubborn (mostly on Enzo’s part) pair but dammit they worked. And that was all Enzo cared about.

Until the witches. In all honestly, they should have seen it coming. They should have seen the trap a mile away. Enzo should have insisted that Alaric be allowed to come with him, should have noticed the way his hand’s trembled at just the thought of letting the witches run tests. But it had only been for three days. He could be away from Alaric for three days. And the information the witches had might lead to Damon. The end goal was always Damon.

But three days turned into a week. But still Enzo had hope that Alaric would find him. Hope that his Original vampire had put the clues together, sooner rather than later. But then a week turned into two and two weeks turned into a month.

And then he flipped his switch. Couldn’t go through the torture and pain; not this time. Not knowing that he had happiness, with Alaric, and now the fear of being locked away for another seven decades and never having that happiness again crushed down on him, like a weight that couldn’t be lifted.

But Alaric had found him, a month later, more broken and bruised than either of them had seen him before, and without humanity. They struggled, getting his humanity on, secluding Enzo at Elena’s cabin. Alaric did everything and anything Enzo asked of him. And it hadn’t even occurred to Enzo once that Alaric didn’t need him anymore. Not in the way that Enzo needed him.

He thought he had finally lost Alaric when he’d lost Damon. That damn glass shattering. The scene that unfolded was one right out of text book horror film and looking back now, he wouldn’t have blamed Damon for killing him the and there. Enzo had hurt Elena, or at least frightened her, and Damon loved Elena. If anyone had so much as threatened Alaric, Enzo would have reacted the same way.

They had left Mystic Falls before daybreak, together, like they had done everything else in the last four months. Even as Enzo told Alaric over and over again that the vampire didn’t need to leave with him. That this was his home. That Elena and Jeremy, and even Damon needed him. But Alaric just shook his head, kissing Enzo softly, reminding Enzo that he needed Alaric more.

And the thought stuck with him, off and on, as they settled in Colorado, in a cabin high up in the mountains. When Alaric would get that far off look in his eyes, or be lost in thought in the middle of a conversation, Enzo would get the feeling that he was trapping the Original, guilting him into staying. But Enzo wasn’t ready to leave, to be on his own. That’s what he told himself anyway.

Said if he could get himself under control, have some sort of control over his PTSD, as Alaric had come to call it, then he would be okay on his own. But the damn snow set it, the bone deep chill that Enzo just couldn’t shake. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. More panicky than he’d been in the last month, since Alaric had walked into that clinic.

Then came the sedative. Probably the highlight of their colossal mistakes. Enzo didn’t blame Alaric, would never blame the vampire for trying to help him. The plan was just to knock him out long enough for the storm to pass and his body to rest. Well, the first part of the plan worked beautifully, as he was indeed unconscious for a better part of two days.

The second part was a little bit messier. The sedative, which Enzo later learn was for Grizzle’s, had a reaction to vampires that neither Alaric nor Enzo could have predicted. The liquid burned as it entered Enzo’s vein in his arm, burned more as it traveled into his heart and then when it was pumped through his entire body, everything burned. Burn on an intensity that was worse than the Whittemore fire. And Enzo was immobilized the entire time. Two days of torture. Two days of pain.

He wasn’t keen on trying sedatives again.

Alaric had been different after that, even if he tried not to be. The sedative was an immense failure and part of Enzo felt that Alaric blamed himself, since it was his suggestion. But there was no one to blame and Enzo didn’t know how to get that through to Alaric.

It wasn’t long after that that they moved to Ireland. It was on a whim, simply because Enzo had seen a painting of a landscape that reminded him of Wales, of home. But he wasn’t ready to go back to Wales or even Italy yet. But Alaric seemed to like the idea of Ireland. It wasn’t cold like Colorado and there were towns, villages, which were less modern, more comfortable for Enzo.

So they had moved them, settled into a little three bedroom cottage on the edge of a village, backed up to a woods. The town pub was two blocks down from the house and vast woods behind. Civilization and isolation all rolled into one.

It had been twenty months since they moved to Ireland and things were almost back to normal. He could go out, walk the streets with Alaric, hand in hand. Grab a bite to eat, real food. He limited himself to blood bags still. One day, he kept telling himself, one day he’d feed from the vein again. But not now. Not when he might kill every person he drank from. And he wouldn’t bare to see the disappointment in Alaric’s eyes if he failed there to.

Plus, he didn’t think Alaric’s minded all that much, since the vampire himself had always drank from blood bags. There were a little harder to come by in Ireland, they usually had to make a trip to Dublin every other week, to hit the blood banks in small rations so as not to be noticed.

But it was something that made Alaric happy, content, so Enzo had no problems with it. They had gotten back from a trip the night before, getting enough for a two or three week supply, they hadn’t rationed it out yet.

Enzo woke with the sun in his eyes, squinting as he turned away from it, even as it warmed his skin, to curl against Alaric. Except the man wasn’t there. His side of the bed was empty, and cold. Enzo sat up quickly all traces of sleep gone from his face as his eyes landed on the note.

Enzo,

You looked too peaceful to wake. You don’t get enough sleep, so I couldn’t wake you. I’ll be in the market for few hours. Stay in bed, enjoy the sun. I’ll be home as soon as I can.

Ric

The note should have been reassuring to Enzo, that’s why it was left. In case he woke and Alaric was still gone. They had gone through a period when every time Alaric left for more than a few minutes, Enzo would have a panic attack.

But he hadn’t had one of those in months. He was better. And he realized that he didn’t want Alaric to feel like he was trapped here. But he also knew the vampire would never leave, would feel obligated to stay with Enzo. Even if Enzo was in love with him, it wasn’t fair for him to force Alaric out of his home, out of the country he was born in.

He wasn’t thinking clearly but all he was thinking was that he had time to slip out, get a head start. Sure, Alaric would look for him, but they’ve perfected staying off the grid. The vampire could only track him for so long before giving up and returning him. To Elena, who is practically the only family he has left, to Damon, who’ve they’ve worked on rebuilding whatever friendship that Enzo destroyed.

Alaric’s life would be better without Enzo in it. He was sure of it.

So sure that he jumped out of bed, forgoing a shower, and through on the first pair of jeans and shirt that was hanging on his side of the closet. Next was the duffle on the floor, which he quickly stuffed with the clothes that he would need for the next few days before he settled somewhere and got new ones.

In no time at all, he was standing in the living room, facing a fire that Alaric must have started before he left in the fireplace, the flames flickering over him, but no warmth reached him. He had dawned his favorite jacket, one of Alaric’s other leather one’s that was small on him but big on Enzo. Shoes on; keys and phone in his pocket, silenced so he wouldn’t hear it. He’d ditch it somewhere to throw Alaric off track, head the opposite direction.

He went back into the bed room, turning Alaric’s note over and writing one of his own. Three simple words. But not the words that were often on the tip of his tongue.

Go home Alaric.

He shouldered the duffle as he blurred out of the house that had become a home and ended up in town, sticking to the shadows. He didn’t want people to see him, didn’t want Alaric to know when exactly he had left. The element of surprise was on his side.

He just had to see Alaric’s face one more time. Then he’d slip away. He could do this. Alaric would be better off without him.

The market was swarming with people, as it often was. One of the main reason’s he never went with Alaric. Too many hands, too many bodies, too much accidental contact. But now, it didn’t seem to bother him as he slipped through the masses of people to find

Finding him was easy, he was taller than most the locals. Plus Enzo would know his voice out anywhere. He listened, some twenty feet away, as Alaric talked fish with a local fisher men. He sounded tired, like he’d already had a long day and it was only noon. That only hardened his resolve to do this. For Alaric.

A ghost of the word goodbye fluttered between his lips before he turned and blurred out. If Alaric heard him, Enzo was too far gone to notice. There was a car waiting, just around the corner, that he would compel to take him to Dublin and from there he’d fly anywhere.

He sat in the back of the car, as the compelled local drove in silence. He was making the biggest mistake of his life. But not Alaric’s.


End file.
